soft as nostalgia
by Rasiaa
Summary: He found it in a box. And it called more than emotion back to him.


_title exchange. thanks, Cheeky Slytherin Lass, for the idea_

* * *

It should have been…easier. But then again, maybe not. Who am I to know, really?

Instead of the pain I expected, I feel absolutely nothing. It's just stuff. There is no attachment to any of it.

I'm alone here, and that's probably for the best, since I think my family would be upset to see the lack of upset from me.

Merlin, I feel so heartless.

She was my partner for all but one year of my life, and now… now she's gone, and it's like I don't even care.

I shift through the box in front of me, pulling out old schoolbooks, pointless things that Hogwarts had required of us. Her old robes that don't smell like her anymore, just dust. A pair of earrings that she had searched for until the day she died. And to think, it was here, just above us in this little damp attic, all this time. What a waste.

Dominique will want them.

This box sorted through, I send it to the other side of the attic, with all the others with the stuff I can get rid of. Too many of the boxes are over there.

There's a little ache in my chest when I look at them. Some of them have water damage from when we had a leak, twenty years ago. There's cobwebs on most of them. Dust, misplaced and run through from where I've touched the boxes. My hands fall limply to my side.

My eyesight goes hazy, staring at one thing for too long. I blink furiously, rubbing my temples and turning around.

Four boxes left.

I take the first one, and in it, there's a collection of winter clothes that I vaguely remember from when we were in our late twenties. Moths got to these a long time ago.

Another box to the other side of the room.

The second and third yield similar items.

But the last one.

I open it, expecting another set of her old clothes, but that's not what I find.

The ache in my chest becomes even more painful, and now, the tears burn in the back of my eyelids.

I pull out the old stuffed animal, filthy from ten years of a child's love. The fabric is worn thin, and there's a tiny hole on the edge of the paw. One of the eyes is threatening to come loose. A sob works its way up my throat.

I don't remember the day she was born, not like I used to. It's another memory that faded with time, another heartbreaking moment among a thousand over a lifetime. But I do know that I had given this to her, barely a toddler than myself, I'd apparently convinced Harry to buy it from the tacky hospital gift shop. It's just a formerly-brown teddy bear, but she never spent a day without it until I got my Hogwarts letter and she put it on the shelf in her bedroom.

I bring the toy close to my chest and close my eyes, tears sliding down my face. I press my nose to the fabric of its head, my hair flopping forward.

"Victoire," I breathe, my heart shattering.

It's like I hadn't really confirmed her death until now. But she left me a week ago.

I shiver, cold suddenly. I look up, my cheeks wet and cool.

And she's there.

Her gorgeous long, straight, white-blonde hair is restored, and that's what clues me in. She's… she's still gone. Her smile is gentle, sad. "My Teddy," she whispers, and when she reaches for me, I reach back, just like always.

"I miss you," I tell her. "I miss you so much."

"Me too, love," she says. "But don't join me yet, okay? Promise me?"

I shake my head, more tears falling. "I can't. Vic, I can't promise that, don't you understand?

"You're all I've ever known, and without you… I don't know which way is up, or down, or left or right."

Her expression is devastated, but resigned, like she knew I'd say that.

I crawl closer to her, uncaring that her spirit is chilled in the already cold room. I hand the bear to her, and she makes a short, choked noise. "Oh," is all she manages.

I rest my hand on her knee, and she takes it and twines our fingers together. "I miss you," I whisper again, and she starts to cry, handing me the teddy bear. I take it, and watch as she leaves me again, her spirit a whisper in the air.

I look down at the toy. "I miss her," I tell it, and there's no answer.


End file.
